


Knight in Stars and Stripes

by irishcookie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9737465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishcookie/pseuds/irishcookie
Summary: Darcy is stranded on Love Day.  Steve swoops in because he is Steve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I figured Valentine's Day is a good excuse to write some ShieldShock Fluff

Darcy fiddles with her phone, squinting as she does so. There is a jumble of letters on the screen and not the order she wants them to be. _Why are the keys in the wrong place? What the fuck kind of Stark phone is this_?

She tries again. 

**Maorashole**

That doesn’t look right. Tomorrow she is getting a new phone (she doesn’t care that this one has been alive for less than a week). 

One more time. 

**Majorasshole. Comeget me.**

Not perfect but considering she is working with busted technology it gets the message across. 

(of course there is nothing actually wrong with her phone; she is just 6 _Chocolate Cherry Cha Cha’s_ too far in to realize it) 

She drops her phone back on the bar top, slumping a little as she does so. Now she can see there is a red splotch on her dress. She throws her drink a traitorous look but then decides it is a perfect metaphor for her entire night ( _this date is a stain on your very favorite dress_ ). 

She had such high hopes too. He seemed nice. _Normal_. She craves normal given what her life has become in the past few years. She spends most of her day darting and weaving between honest to goodness heroes. She needs a night on the couch binge watching _Friends_ every now and then. 

Or a date with a guy named Gary ( _see, normal_ ). 

She had gushed all day to Jane. Her first real date since Ian — and Gary had promised her that they would have fun. Don’t get her wrong; she loves her job but it doesn’t buy her flowers and get her laid. With that in mind, she had picked out her favorite dress — it’s simple, showing off her _assets_ without shoving them in anyone’s face ( _now it’s ruined_ ). 

“Another one?” 

Darcy jolts, coming out of her train of thought to find the bartender standing in front of her. He has his hand on her nearly empty drink. She hums for a moment and then wordlessly nods her head. 

A minute later another chocolate cherry concoction is set in front of her. 

She stirs it with her index finger. Her actions are not nearly as gracefully as she thinks. Some of the red liquid sloshes over the side and pools on the bar top. She completely misses the annoyed look the bartender gives her. Instead she is watching the masses around her as they enjoy their dates. 

_Ugh, she hates them all_. 

She pulls her drink close, taking a deep sip that nearly drains the glass. She earns another stain on her dress but does not notice. She closes her eyes, for the first time realizing how dizzy she feels. Maybe, just maybe she should lay off the drinks. 

She orders another one instead. 

“Darcy?” 

She makes a face at the sound because she shouldn’t be hearing it. She rarely hears that sound because she rarely talks to _him_. _He_ wouldn’t be here of all places. 

Still, _he_ slides onto the stool next to her. When her next drink appears, he speaks. “You sure you want to drink that?” 

She looks at him (well, she has to squint a little) to confirm, that yes, Steve Rogers really is sitting next to her. She stares probably for a beat too long but it just such an odd thing. Realizing there is a question hanging between them, she blinks. “Uh, maybe…” 

“I don’t think you do,” Steve tells her and he moves more quickly than she does, fingers snagging around the stem of the martini glass so he can pull it closer to him. “But if you truly do, just ask.” 

Darcy manages a nod. 

For a moment the pair of them sit there. She has gone back to looking at him like he is some scientific anomaly dreamed up by one of Jane’s machines. To his credit, he only shifts his weight once under her scrutiny. Finally she asks the obvious question. “What are you doing here?” 

Steve raises a brow. “I got your text.” 

She shakes her head. “I sent that to Jane. Fucking Stark Tech.” 

Steve presses his lips together and she can’t tell if he wants to laugh or correct her language. “You _sent_ it to me.” 

Because she rarely ever loses an argument, Darcy reaches for her phone. She has trouble getting it unlocked, fingers dancing over the numbers in the wrong order more than once. When she finally looks at her garbled message she realizes she has no room to argue. “Whoops.” She pops the _p_ and gives him a sheepish look. 

“It’s all right,” he tells her. “I’m glad you did.” She watches him survey the room. “Where’s the…” He is not going to say ‘asshole’ is he? “…where’s your date?” He has this look on his face. She’s seen it before. It’s his game face. He thinks he has to punch his way out of this. 

( _bless him_ ) 

“He ghosted me,” she tells him, leaning her cheek on her palm. Her features squish together and she lets out a huff of air. 

Steve knits his eyebrows together. “Ghosted?” 

Darcy shifts her gaze towards him. “Oh yeah, I forgot you don’t speak millennial. Means he never showed. He told me to meet him here and then he never showed. Didn’t answer my texts either.” She chews on her lip for a moment. “Can I have my drink now?” 

“You sure you want it?” Steve asks. She gives a nod of her head. “Really sure?” 

“No,” she admits. 

Steve shoves it towards the bartender, who removes it from sight. “If he didn’t show, then he is clearly an idiot.” 

Darcy knows he is right (only she would call Gary a _major asshole_ ). “He just…seemed so normal.” 

“Not everyone is what they seem,” Steve reminds her. 

It is an obvious lesson and one that Darcy would rather not dwell on anymore. “Can we go now?” 

“Sure.” 

She tries to stand. She really does. Only she stumbles on her first attempt. Steve is quick, his arms easily encircling her to keep her from going down all the way. “Okay, okay,” he says quietly. “We’ll do this one step at a time.” 

“Captain America to the rescue!” She chimes, hoping to hide her embarrassment. 

Together they make their way towards the exit. The cold Manhattan air hits her and so does something else. She looks up at Steve. “You didn’t bring your bike did you? Because this is _not_ the dress for riding that thing.” In other words: she is probably far too drunk to even attempt it. 

“No,” Steve tells her, shifting her so that she is leaning heavily on him. He digs into his pocket with his free hand and pulls out a set of keys. A few feet away from them an SUV beeps happily. “You warm enough?” 

“That thing have heated seats?” 

He grins and then in one swift move his coat is settling over her shoulders. She tries to wrap her head around how that happened and in the end only can come up with one conclusion: she is drunk; he is not. 

He helps her into the passenger side. She finds herself nestled in the cocoon of his jacket (and yes there are heated seats). For the first time in the last few hours, she hums in contentment. Her head comes to rest on the glass of the window and she watches as the city flies by. “You know,” she begins, sounding a bit sluggish (she blames the blissful combination of heat and alcohol). “…I bet I texted you unconsciously.” 

He glances at her, an eyebrow raised. “How’s that?” 

“I mean, I wasn’t _unconscious_ ,” Darcy corrects. “I just…well, Jane is with Thor right now. They’re totally banging by the way. Thank God I don’t share a room with her anymore. I mean how awkward would that be…” She notes the look on his face and then refocuses. “Jane is with Thor. It’s Valentine’s Day. What kind of friend would I have been to interrupt her like that?” She falls silent only briefly before expanding on her theory. “Tony’s got Pepper and thank God for that. Could you imagine if I had texted him? He’d probably film this and threaten to put it on YouTube every time I tried to get him to listen to me.” 

“You texted me because you knew I was alone,” Steve concludes. 

“Yep.” There she goes again, accentuating the _p_. “I wouldn’t be spoiling any plans…” 

“Darcy,” he begins. “Wouldn’t matter if you were — if you need someone, never hesitate to ask. Got that?” 

She stares at him a beat too long once more. Then she nods her head (it is an exaggerated movement). Her eyes feel heavy so she closes them. She is not asleep but she knows she is circling the drain (that’s what happens when you drink alcohol in rapid succession on an empty stomach — thank you very much, _Gary the major asshole_ ). She can hear him tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and wiggles until she is nearly lost in his jacket (it smells like him; it’s a nice smell…a _normal_ smell). 

The car comes to an abrupt stop and she opens her eyes to see they are in the underground garage of Stark Towers. She fiddles with the seat belt and manages to get herself free. Opening the door proves to be another story. Thankfully Steve is there and he catches her when she all but spills out of the door. 

There is no way she is walking anymore. 

He hoists her in his arms without a second thought. Her head finds the notch on his shoulder. “Hey Mom, look at me — just like those girls Captain America rescues on a weekly basis,” she mutters and she can feel a chuckle rumble in his chest. 

Darcy stays quiet until they are in the elevator. “Why don’t you have plans?” She asks. He looks momentarily confused. “I mean…why don’t you have a Valentine, Steve Rogers? You’re a good guy.” 

Steve’s head dips and she swears she sees color in his cheeks (or maybe she is projecting). “I don’t know.” 

“ _Pfft_ , their loss,” she decides. She can’t wait to be in her bed. It will be glorious. 

When they reach her door, Steve realizes a new problem. “Your key?” 

It’s at the bottom of her purse. By the time she digs it out, he will probably want to drop her right there. “Uh…” She glances upwards. “Friday?” 

The calming voice of Tony’s assistant answers immediately. “Yes, Miss Lewis?” 

“Can you…can you just unlock my door?” She asks. 

“Certainly.” 

There is a click as the lock gives way and Steve carries her over the threshold. He stands in the middle of the living room for a moment. “Where?” 

“Bed,” she pleads. “Just dump me on my bed.” 

She thanks whatever holy power watches over her that her bedroom is somewhat presentable (and by that she means that all her underwear is tucked safely in their respected drawers). She groans happily as he settles her on her bed. Her limbs stretch out immediately and her eyes fall close once more. 

She doesn’t even realize he is still there until she feel his fingers curl around her ankle. Her body jolts and she hears him _sshing_ her. He is slipping her shoes off ( _finally_ , she swears those things were cutting off her circulation). She hears them hit the floor and then moments later she hears running water. 

“Steve?” 

He is close when he speaks. She opens one eye to find him looming over her bed with a glass of water in his hands. “For when you wake up,” he tells her as he sets it on her bedside table. 

He turns to leave. Darcy finds that once last push of energy to reach out and grab his wrist. He stops and looks back down at her. 

“Thanks,” she says. “For everything.” 

He smiles (she thinks it looks blurry). “Anytime.” 

That is the last thing she remembers before sleep pulls her fully under. 

When she wakes again, the sun is streaming in and she immediately recoils. The sensation is enough to send her running for the bathroom where she wretches. Her skin feels clammy and she presses it to the cold tile of her bathroom floor. 

_Never again will she drink Chocolate Cherry Cha Cha’s_. 

She crawls towards her bedroom when she feels able. She spots the glass of water and manages a partial smile. Steve. God, she hopes she didn’t say anything too ridiculous. She’s counting on at least one statement she would regret — not that Steve would tell her. 

Because Steve is a good guy (she vaguely reminders telling him that). 

She downs the water and then returns to her bed, burying herself under her covers. She sleeps some more. 

When she finally wakes for good, she feels more like herself. Still some shade of death but better than before. She showers and opts for comfort clothes (basically jogging pants and an oversized sweater). She decides to soak her dress in a last ditch effort to save it. She realizes she is actually hungry (which she considers progress). 

She slips on a pair of shoes and leaves the relative safety of her room. The common areas are quiet (everyone is probably still basking in their Valentine’s sex haze; she hates them for a split second). 

She polishes off a bowl of cereal and is cleaning it when Steve arrives. He is reading off a iPad and doesn’t see her until she clears her throat. He looks up and that easy smile she remembers from the night before reappears. “Darcy,” he begins with a nod of his head. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I have cotton candy for a brain,” she answers. He gives her a look. “I just mean…fuzzy. But that is be expected.” 

Steve murmurs an agreement, his eyes returning to the screen. 

She is worried that he is going to turn and leave her there. “Hey,” she says and his focus on her once more. “Did I say thank you last night?” 

“You did,” he confirms. He stares her. A moment too long (she knows how it feels to be on the other side now). Then he sets the iPad down. “You think you can ride a bike in that?” 

She sees herself standing on the sidewalk complaining about riding a bike in her dress (she is still holding out hope it can bounce back). She snorts a laugh. “Yeah, I think I can.” 

“Want to go for a ride?” He asks. “It might help clear the cotton candy.” 

She smiles. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.”


End file.
